Saving Scott (Kobo) (17 page)

“Yeah. I went
off the deep end because I was excited, and you dumped a bucket of ice water on
me. The building inspector is coming today, and if he passes everything, I’m
ready to go. Carl said I could get the furniture delivered—it’s been in storage
for ages—and then—”

He cut her
off with a squeeze and a kiss. A short one, because there was a knock at the
back door. The building inspector already? Scott stepped away and straightened
his shoulders. Cop mode, she thought. Formal and in control.

He took her
hand as she crossed through the kitchen and the mud room. She reached for the
knob, and he tugged her away.

“Check the
peephole,” he said.

“As if
someone who’s going to hurt me would knock?” But she complied and saw Detective
Kovak standing there. How had he gotten past them?

She opened
the door. “Detective?”

“What the—”
Scott muttered.

He grinned. “Not
happy to see me?”

From inside
the bakery, Connor joined them. Ashley looked from Connor to Detective Kovak,
then at Scott. “Is someone going to fill me in?”

“Secret passages,”
Connor said. “Love these old buildings.”

Detective
Kovak stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Not really a secret
passage. When they converted the building into the two stores, they walled off
the ground floor, nothing above. Turns out that the upstairs is still connected
to Belinda Nesbitt’s shop. She uses her half for storage. There’s a small
chamber between the two spaces. Probably a maid or valet’s quarters. She claims
she’s never gone beyond her storage room.”

Claims
,
Ashley thought. Another case of a cop not taking what he was told at face
value.

As long as
she was being ignored, Ashley continued going through her paperwork. “There you
are,” she muttered to the stack of papers, and set the elusive receipt aside.

“I’d better
wrap things up,” Connor said. He nodded in her direction and went back toward
the storage closet.

Kovak looked
at Scott. “I need to ask Belinda Nesbitt more questions. Want to come along?”

“After you
tell me what was up there,” Scott said.

Tired of
being invisible, Ashley glowered at Scott. “Tell
you
? What about tell
us?
After all, it is my shop.” She threw another glower at Detective Kovak. “I
might have information to share. Such as hearing from Carl.”

Detective
Kovak’s gaze snapped to Scott before fixing on her. He pulled out a notebook
and a pen. “When?”

“A few
minutes ago.” She reported what he’d told her, and Kovak wrote in his pad. “How
did he get in touch with you?”

“He called
my cell. Like he always does.”

“From his
cell?” Detective Kovak asked.

She nodded. “It
was his ringtone and his cell number that showed up, so, yes.”

“Phone
company should be able to verify where the call originated,” Scott said.

Ashley
thought about that. Right. Cell towers, triangulation, GPS. Let the cops figure
out where he really was.

Really was?
Was she getting cynical like the cops? “I’m sure you’ll find out he’s in
Oklahoma City, like he said.”

“Odds are,
you’re right,” Detective Kovak said. “But we have to cross Ts and dot Is in our
line of work.”

Which was
more or less what Scott had said. Satisfied that the cops weren’t looking to
railroad anyone, she accepted his words. “Okay. So what did you find upstairs
other than a way to get from my store to Belinda’s? Can I go up there?”

Detective
Kovak frowned. “I’d rather you didn’t until we’re finished.”

Her heart
sank. Then again, nobody had rushed out for yellow tape. “Is it another crime
scene?”

“It’s
evidence, but doesn’t seem to be a crime scene. Connor has more to do up there,
but if you’ll restrict your activities to this floor, there shouldn’t be any
problems.”

“So I can
arrange to have my furniture delivered?” She picked up the receipt, already
mentally dialing the storage company. “And the building inspector is due.”

“Any reason
for him to need to go upstairs?”

Ashley shook
her head. “No, the plans were for down here only. “ Her brain kicked into gear.
Detective Kovak had avoided answering half of her question. “So what
did
you find up there?”

The
detective exchanged another look with Scott. “I think we should talk about it
at the station.”

The station?
Ashley’s stomach flipped. “But I have to be here. The building inspector—” She
gave a pleading glance at Scott. “I’ll answer all your questions. But please—I
don’t want to delay the inspection.” If there was nobody to let the inspector
in, no telling how long before he’d reschedule. She’d dealt with that once
already.

“Why don’t
we deal with Ms. Nesbitt first?” Scott suggested.

“That would
be great,” Ashley said. “I’m sure by the time you’re finished, the inspector
will have come and gone.” And passed everything, she dared to hope.

“I’ll be
happy to wait here with Ms. Eagan, if you think there might be a problem
leaving her alone,” Scott said.

What could
she do? The place was practically barren. Aside from her office with a small
built-in desk and a chair, she had no furnishings. The cops had already gone
over everything after they’d found Felicity, and the tech had undoubtedly
documented every square inch of what was upstairs. Or was there something up
there they didn’t want her to see? Something that implicated her? Did they
think she’d go up and make sure she could explain anything they might ask her
about? She’d had no clue that the space upstairs even existed until Willie had
called.

“She’s the
one who told us about the trap door,” Scott said. “If she was hiding something
up there, she had no reason to let us know about it.”

Ashley’s
heart rate headed for normal with Scott’s supportive comment. “He’s right.
After all, Detective Kovak, you’d already released the bakery to me, so you’d
never have come back.”

The
detective’s mouth curved up in a half-smile. “An excellent argument.” The smile
didn’t disappear, but his gaze hardened. “However, you have to understand that
if evidence led us back to you or your bakery, we would examine it again. It’s
not quite the same as not being able to re-try someone for the same crime.”

“I
understand. Please. I just want my bakery to open on time.”

Detective
Kovak eyed Scott with some sort of cop-to-cop conspiratorial expression. “Bring
her to the station as soon as the inspector leaves. Oh, and we’ll need her
prints.” He turned to leave, but before he opened the door, the tech’s voice
called out.

“Got
something.”

How many
times had Scott heard those words—or uttered them himself? And how often had
they turned into that one puzzle piece that connected the rest? Adrenaline
surged through his system. He cut his gaze to Ashley, who’d gone pale and now
leaned against the counter as if it were the only reason she was still
standing.

Kovak hadn’t
seemed to notice. He called to Connor that he was on his way and strode off.

Was there
something she knew about up there? He still couldn’t buy her as having anything
to do with a homicide. Then again, he’d been wrong before. His cop radar was
good, but not infallible. Without thinking, he rubbed his leg.

Scott
crossed to Ashley and put his arm around her. She trembled beneath his touch.

“Hey. You
all right?” He lifted her chin so she met his gaze. “You need a glass of water?”

She shook
her head. “I want it to be over. I want my shop back. I want my life back. My
plain, everyday, ordinary life. Get up, go to work, bake, and maybe make some
people happy. Instead, this dream of mine is turning into a nightmare.”

Not
hardly. You don’t know nightmares.

Scott wished
he could go upstairs with Connor and Kovak. See what was going on. He knew the
ladder was out of the question, but maybe he could backtrack through the shop
next door. Instead, he drew Ashley close. Stroked her hair. “It’ll be over
soon.”

“I’ve never
been up there. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course I
do. And Kovak probably believes you, too. It’s a matter of eliminating suspects
until you’re left with the one who did it.”

“So that’s
why he wants my prints?”

Scott
pressed his forehead to hers. “It’s routine. Technically, they should have
taken them already, so they could eliminate your prints from other ones they
found at the bakery when they were processing the scene. They’ve been busy,
though.” He didn’t think Kovak would have made such a basic mistake, but it was
easy to be overwhelmed at the beginning of a case. And homicide investigations
weren’t the norm for him.

“And he’s
checking up on Carl to eliminate him? Not because he thinks Carl killed
Felicity?”

“That’s how
it works. Besides, poison doesn’t sound like Carl’s style.” He stroked Ashley’s
jaw and smiled. “He’d probably use a hammer. Or bury her under the floor. Or
leave her in the bottom of a Dumpster.”

She tilted
her head to meet his gaze. “You’re teasing me.”

“No, trying
to cheer you up. Is it working?”

Her smile,
tentative though it was, was enough to cheer
him
up. Parts of him more
up than others.

“Thanks.”
She pulled away, but slid her hands down his arms and grasped his hands. “I
need to call the storage company. The sooner they move my things in, the sooner
I can feel like this is my space. Not to mention I’ve already paid way too much
for storage, no thanks to Carl and his Klutz Brigade.”

Furniture
would be nice, Scott thought as he tried to ease some of the pressure on his
leg. Sitting on the floor was tempting, although he wasn’t sure about the
getting up part.

While Ashley
made her call, Scott walked slowly around the room. Moving hurt less than
standing still. She came back, wheeling a small desk chair in front of her.

“Sit,” she
said.

He didn’t
argue.

Kovak and
Connor came back carrying several evidence bags.

“You going
to tell us what you found, or are you playing the need to know card?” Scott
asked. He almost regretted the sarcasm in his tone when he noticed the
exhaustion in Kovak’s face. Almost. Being a cop meant being on the job all day,
all night, every day, every night. You dealt with the stress or you washed out.

Sound
familiar?

Kovak
dragged a hand through his hair. “The place has obviously been used. I suspect
it was a love nest, although it could have been a very neat squatter. We’ll
need to analyze the prints.” He looked at Ashley. “I’d like to get yours now,
rather than do it at the station. For elimination purposes.”

“Fine,”
Ashley said, her chin lifted. She thrust out her hands. “Print me.”

Connor set
his kit on the counter and made short work of rolling Ashley’s prints onto a
ten card.

“Guess your
benefactor didn’t want to spring for a portable live scanner,” Scott said.

Kovak
chuckled. “Maybe they’ll feature them on more episodes of those crime scene
shows, and Santa will bring us one for Christmas. Meanwhile, we do things the
old-fashioned way.”

Connor
handed Ashley a cleanser-saturated paper towel. “We’re done.”

Scott couldn’t
miss the relief on Ashley’s face. Definitely not the expression of someone
worried that her prints would come back with a hit from AFIS.

The down
side of being a cop. You couldn’t trust anyone.

Scott’s
heart pounded. He fought the onset of an anxiety attack. Filing paperwork and
manning phones suddenly held a new appeal.

Which is
why you took the desk job, idiot. What makes you think you’ve got the chops to
be in the field anymore?

“Time to hit
the road,” Kovak said. “Whelan, see you later. Miss Eagan. Thanks for your
cooperation.”

Ashley
walked Kovak and Connor to the door and locked it behind them. Scott rubbed his
leg. The pain pill had kicked in. His leg didn’t hurt so much, but he’d lost
some critical brain cell function, replaced with the overwhelming urge to take
a nap.

“So,” Ashley
said, returning to his side and sitting cross-legged at his feet. “Are you my
babysitter?” Her tone was only half-teasing.

“I wouldn’t
put it like that. Kovak’s the investigator. I’m a civilian working for the
department. I do what he tells me. Right now, it’s staying with you.” Scott
rubbed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, trying to erase some of
the drug-induced fatigue. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

Ashley
jumped to her feet. “Of course. I’ll brew some. I usually have a pot for the
workers, but since there weren’t any here today—I should have thought of that.”

“Hey, it’s
no big deal.” But it would give her something to do, and he could use the
caffeine hit.

While Ashley
busied herself in the kitchen, Scott closed his eyes, running the case through
the fog in his head. Until he—make that Kovak—could pinpoint a motive or two,
all they had was a whodunit. And those were the kinds of cases that usually
remained unsolved.

The aroma of
fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen. Ashley returned. “It’ll be ready soon. I
don’t have anything to go with it, though. Until the inspector shows up, I’m
not cleared to do any actual cooking here.”

“Not a
problem.”

She tilted
her head, eyeing him. Scott saw the concern in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure if
it was for herself or for him.

She tugged
at her hair. “I could go home for something to eat. And my laptop. At least I
could be doing something productive.”

“What about
the building inspector?”

“Even if he
showed up right after I left, I’d be back before he finished. You could wait
here and let him in.”